They were the words no parent wants to hear from the mouth of a doctor.

"They told us he had six hours to live," said Jaime Lesinski, the father of Jake Lesinski.

Jake Lesinski plays catcher for the Edison High baseball team. He has been the model of athleticism and skill throughout his career. As a sophomore, he was nearly 6 feet tall, over 200 pounds and batting in the middle of the lineup for one of the best teams in the state. He was an All-Sunset League First Team player and an All-State sophomore catcher, garnering interest from colleges around the nation.

One year later, Jake was 70 pounds lighter, unable to walk and battling for his life at UCLA Medical Center. The disease had ravaged his liver and nearly sent his body into a systemic failure.

Today, Jake stands on his own two feet. He once again feels the dirt stuck to the bottom of his cleats. And his appreciation for family, fresh air and the ballpark are stronger than ever before.

SYMPTOMS OF SICKNESS

Jaime Lesinski tried to play home doctor. He thought it was mental. His son was too active, too healthy to be sick.

In December 2012, Jaime accompanied Jake to a baseball camp at Stanford. Players participated in baseball activities for a third of the day and were free to do as they pleased after.

"Jake just wanted to sleep," Jaime said. "He didn't want to do anything. He was performing well at the camp but wanted to sleep for 14 hours. I thought he was depressed."

Jaime took his son to be evaluated for depression in early January, but the doctor said Jake showed no signs of sadness. Jake then visited his physician, who informed the Lesinskis that their youngest son had a bug that would run its course.

But the course it was running left Jake in a state of panic.

"When I went to pee, it would come out black," he said.

The Lesinskis visited the doctor for a second time and doctors examined Jake's blood. Within days, a bed-ridden Jake saw his fever reach 105, at which point a panicky Jake called his father into his bedroom.

"His words were, 'Take me to the hospital,' " Jaime said. "Luckily, my daughter Rebecca came home around the time I was going to take him in because he couldn't walk. He rolled off the bed and collapsed on the floor. My daughter grabbed one leg and I grabbed the other, and we literally had to drag him down the stairs and into the car."

Jaime drove Jake from their Huntington Beach home to Children's Hospital of Orange County in Orange on Jan. 23, but doctors said that Jake's health called for him to be transported to UCLA Medical Center immediately.

His liver was failing and his kidneys were threatening to follow suit. Doctors anticipated Jake had six hours left to live.

FIGHT OF HIS LIFE

Jake's blood work showed that he had mononucleosis. However, while most common mono levels come in around 200, Jake's was over 600 and it was determined the disease had spread to his liver.

The most pressing obstacle, however, was transporting Jake.

"We thought we'd be riding in the ambulance with Jake," Jaime said. "But they thought they were getting a kid. Jake was a 240-pound man. They needed a helicopter."

The hospital called in a helicopter to airlift Jake to UCLA, while Jaime, Rebecca and Dana, Jake's mother, endured the most agonizing drive of their lives.

"We didn't know what was going on but we felt like the doctors could do something," Jaime said he and his wife's thoughts during the drive to UCLA. "They had to be able to. We didn't give up. We just felt that this is not going to happen."

When the Lesinskis arrived at UCLA, Dana said that Jake already had 20 visitors.

"When I got to the hospital, the nurse said Jake's aunt and uncle were already in the room," Dana said. "It was (Edison baseball) Coach Lambright and another team mom."

Jaime said that once at UCLA, hospital doctors were debating treatments for Jake, one of which was a liver transplant.

Doctors sent Jake's case study throughout the world and two physicians, one in Cincinnati and one in Sweden, informed UCLA doctors that Jake was suffering from a rare disease called hemophagocytic syndrome, or HLH.

Essentially, the cells that were fighting the mono in Jake's body did not conclude their fight once the mono was cured. Instead, they continued to eliminate the blood cells in Jake's bone marrow, debilitating his immune system, causing the high fever and jaundice.

Jaime recalls doctors telling him not to read of the disease on the Internet.

"Successful treatment apparently meant delaying death for about two months," Jaime said.

Jake was put on chemotherapy for four nights, but his body reacted negatively. He was taken off the treatment and doctors didn't believe he would make it to the morning.

Jake began to experience seizures, which doctors said was a positive sign that Jake's body was fighting back.

At this point, Jake was nearly half the weight he was when admitted. He was constantly sleeping and barely eating.

But in Dana's mind, the death of her youngest child still was not a plausible reality.

"I never let my mind go there. I never let that be an option," she said.

STRENGTH IN NUMBERS

Jake remained in the hospital for nearly a month, his family sleeping by his side on a nightly basis.

During that time, as Jake became more coherent, his thoughts remained consistent.

"I was just trying to get through each day and get to the next day," Jake said. "I had to be strong for my family and friends. If I freaked out too, that would have made it much worse. I wanted them to know I'd be OK.

"I felt like I knew my body. I felt like I knew I was going to make it."

According to Dana, the outpouring of support for the Lesinski family throughout Huntington Beach was remarkable. Jake's visitor count was enormous.

"It was really difficult, but I can't emphasize enough the support we got from the baseball, school and church communities," Dana said. "Teams from all around and different kids came and saw Jake on a daily basis."

And Jake got better. His treatments were showing signs of success. Jake began to regain his functions and the discussion regarding his baseball career surfaced.

Doctors informed Jake, who had shrunk to 150 pounds and could no longer walk, that his baseball career was more than likely over. Jake's lean stature did nothing to persuade him otherwise.

"When I looked into the mirror, I was freaked out," he said. "I didn't have hair anymore. They shaved it so they could put all these devices on me. My legs were like toothpicks. You could see every rib in my body."

Jake said that his family and friends, combined with his love for the sport he's played since age 4, pushed him to make his way back behind home plate.

As he began to regain his strength, physical therapists taught Jake to walk. They would hold his arms and place a strap around his waist in order to offer extra support.

"It makes you appreciate the people that help you," Jake said of having to relearn to walk. "When I first started trying to walk, I couldn't hold myself up. At this point, I had lost about 80 pounds. They told me to move my arms and engage my muscles. But I was just trying to inch forward."

Jake slowly began to put on weight and hold himself upright. On Feb. 14, Jake was released from the hospital.

Only one destination made sense.

"The day Jake got out of the hospital, we drove straight form there to the field at Edison," Dana said. "He wanted to be with the team."

Upon his arrival, Jake's teammates and coaches bombarded him with hugs.

LOOKING BACK

Jake is in his senior season at Edison, catching and back in the middle of the lineup for the Chargers. He is the team's captain and most respected player.

Upon his return, Jaime's message to his son was clear: When you get out of this hospital, you don't owe anyone anything.

"I told him he gave people the opportunity to show the best of themselves," Jaime said.

Jaime doesn't want to call his son's recovery a miracle. He believes it discredits the power of friendship and Jake's resiliency.

But the fact that Jake is back behind home plate, in Coach Lambright's eyes, is astonishing.

"It was touch and go for a while," Lambright said. "It's remarkable that he came out of it healthy, let alone play baseball again."

Jaime's greatest fear was that Jake would be angry. Mad that his promising career was brought to a halt. Mad that all he worked so hard for was washed away in months.

"He was well on his way to being a big prospect," Lambright said. "If he would have stayed on track from his sophomore year, he would be a D-1 guy, signed, sealed and delivered."

But Jake doesn't concern himself with what was. He despises talking about the ordeal. He doesn't enjoy pity.

He considers it a life experience as opposed to a curse.

"I feel completely normal now. It feels like a huge blur in the past. I can't remember a lot of the things that happened. I feel back to normal body-wise, but after being in the hospital, I feel like I matured so much. Maturity isn't just about age. Before, I was just a teenager. I feel like I came out an adult."

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